Clock, It's Much Too Late
by dietcherryemma
Summary: A work based on Jason Robert Brown's The Last Five Years. This story takes place almost a year after the musical, when Cathy gets an unexpected glimpse into her exhusband's life and thriving career. They attempt to begin a friendship...
1. New and Recommended

_I'm getting to old for cattle calls. Waking up at 5:00 to be # 231 in line behind some decrepit theatre next to girls who... lets just say they don't make me feel great about my body. My almost 30 body. No, don't remind yourself, Cathy. Just get some food. You should eat. Tapping on an empty stomach is not a good thing. Ok, maybe just some orange juice._

She opened the fridge. Almost bare. She thought briefly about going downstairs and across the street to get a muffin, but poured some orange juice and shoved a piece of bread in the toaster instead. She flipped on the tv, praying the winter hadn't set in overnight, and she would have to stand outside in the snow.

_Oh Christ. _

There he was. Chatting it up with Charlie Gibson on _Good Morning, America_. Pretending to flirt with Diane Sawyer...

_Why is Jamie on Good Morning, America? A New Book? I haven't seen anything about a... stop it, Cathy. Turn it off. _

But she couldn't move. He looked good. Really good. Almost a year... it _had_ been almost a year. What had she done in a year? Well, there was that national tour she had done for awhile... that had been good for her. She had gotten experience, traveled the country, been with a few guys that had been fairly attractive and sweet, she had tried to heal, to forget... but now he was staring right at her. Well, not right at her. At Diane Sawyer.

"For those of you who have just tuned in, we're talking this morning to Mr. Jamie Wellerstein, author of the New York Times # 1 Best selling novel, _Growing Colder_. Before the break, we were talking about your inspiration for the book. Jamie, could you tell us a little bit more about that?"

"Alright. You see, this particular book is based on... it is actually based on my own marriage, while it lasted."

Orange juice flew across the room. Cathy blinked. # 1 Best Seller? About his own...

_Oh God... _

She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her robe and remained fixated on the television.

"While it lasted?"

"Yes. I was married for... for five years until last year, when things sort of fell apart. So the book is based on that. It's about disenchantment, really. "

"I see. Now Jamie, the majority of your fan base is female and under 35. You're obviously rising in popularity very quickly- last week _People _magazine declared you the "hottest author of the year", and they weren't just talking about your book. How is this affecting you?"

"It's all very new and strange. It's incredibly exciting, you know, seeing my book in the _Barnes and Noble_ window under a # 1 sign, or getting recognized in a coffee shop by some random person I've never met... but I'm trying to keep a level head. I've got more to write, and I'm excited to have an opportunity to do that."

"And so humble, too! We expect you back here when you're next novel hits # 1!"

Jamie smiled. Cathy's heart stopped.

"I hope so."

Cathy clicked the tv off. She was awestruck. A book... about their marriage? More importantly, about how it fell apart? God, she couldn't believe it! How could he broadcast their personal problems to the entire nation- the entire world? She threw herself into the shower and got ready for her audition, which suddenly seemed utterly meaningless.

The theatre was chilly. It was always either too hot or too cold, she had noticed. The old theatres in the city either didn't have enough money to get new heating and cooling systems, or wanted the actors to be as uncomfortable as possible. That's how it seemed, at least.

"194, please give your name and age"

"Catherine Wellerstein, 27"

_Oops, I forgot to lie about my age. Oh well, they wouldn't have bought it anyways. They'll see my id if I get a callback, so it really doesn't matter. Maybe I should change my name back. Now that his book is out and doing really well..._

"and what are you singing for us today, Ms. Wellerstein?"

"When You Come Home to Me"

"One moment... alright, go ahead"

_When you come hom... I wonder if it's sold out at Barnes and Noble. I could go by on the way home, pick up a copy. I need some groceries, though. _

_Damn him. Damn him and his stupid success... ok, I don't mean it. I'm... I'm happy for him, I guess. Maybe I should call him, you know, just see how he is, congratulate him and whatnot. No, I can't do that. I'm practically unemployed and have gotten nowhere. I'll look like an idiot. What would I say? "Hey, Jamie. It's me, Cathy- you know, your ex-wife... I'm a waitress at a really nifty little cafe, and I-"_

"Thank you. Next."

Cathy walked offstage. Had she actually been singing? She couldn't remember. Maybe it had been good. She doubted it. She didn't quite know where she was going, but her feet seemed to be leading the way. They stopped her inside the _Barnes and Noble_, right in front of a huge display.

There he was again.

Jamie.

A massive, black and white picture with his signature scribbled across the bottom.

_Since when did Jamie have a publicity shot?_

She picked up the hardback, flipped open the cover, and was immediately greeted by his infective smile. She couldn't help but smirk. She turned to the first page, and started reading.

_Nora was everything he had ever wanted in a woman,. She was a passionate temptress, thrown together in a frenzy of talent, intelligence, and that soft, natural smell of shampoo that made his knees buckle and melt beneath him. The moment he met her, he had to have her. She was the one._

Cathy's eyes welled up with tears.

_No. I can't do this here. _

_I can't break down and cry._

_Especially not in front of an incredibly hot, life-size picture of my ex-husband. _

She snapped the book shut and held it to her chest, walking briskly to the cashier. On her way home, she stopped at the store and bought juice, milk, bread, frosted flakes, two frozen dinners, and a half gallon of cookie dough ice cream. Arriving at her apartment, she quickly changed back into her pajamas and robe. With her spoon and ice cream carton in hand, she curled up on the couch to read.

It was amazing.

There were no other words. Six years of feelings bottled up inside of her were suddenly surfacing. The things he wrote about her... well, Nora... But the things he wrote! She was seeing the entire story unfold in front of her. Seeing it from his point of view. Seeing, and finally understanding what it must have been like for him. Why, maybe, he had gone to Elise...

_Emily ran a hand through his hair. _

_"Its alright, Sam... I could have guessed as much."_

_"You don't understand," he protested, "I love her, but-"_

_She kissed him with a firmness, a decisiveness, that he had not felt for some time. It was wrong. He knew it. He loved Nora, more than he had loved anything in his entire life, but... but there wasn't this. There wasn't this warmth. There wasn't the passion, the insane emotion of simply being with, simply kissing someone you love so much. She didn't touch him like that. Not anymore. _

_Nora was preoccupied, he understood. She was busy- trying to make her own career, follow her own dreams, become someone- while he betrayed her, sleeping exposed, naked next to his lover. It wasn't the same with Emily. Could never be the same. But it would do. Emily was crazy. Her everyday routine consisted of all the things he had dreamed about doing in college but was always too concerned about flunking to try. She was successful, beautiful, nice enough, undenyably flexible, and most of all- - convenient. _

_He hated himself. That feeling would never go away. But as Emily ran her prettily manicured fingers over his bare chest, he could feel. _

_He left the next day. _

_He couldn't stand the thought of betraying Nora just to feel warm again... but it was happening. Something had to give. He had to be honest. He had to let her go. He was hurting her. He sat at the kitchen table in the apartment he shared with his wife, mulling over his wedding band. He knew it would break her. But it was better to leave, wasn't it? All they could do anymore was fight. She would be better off without him... Yada, yada yada. As he tried to make excuses to himself, he realized that he could never justify his own actions. Explaining himself wouldn't change his actions._

_Nothing changed the fact that he was leaving, and that it hurt Nothing could change the fact that he had cheated on her, and wanted to jump off a tall building. But how he felt really didn't concern him that much at this particular moment. He was hurting Nora. That fact alone made him want to drive a wooden stake through his heart. A wooden stake or some large, metal garden tool. Why the hell had he cheated on her? _

_Sam put his face down on the table, eyeing the ring lying flat against yellow paper. He didn't remember what he had written. It all was the same to him now. _

_Why am I doing this, he thought, if it hurts this badly? _

_He had never given them a chance. _

_And though he had wanted so badly to believe their relationship would work, he now realized that he never actually thought they would be together forever. Sure, he had hoped it, but had he actually believed in it? Knowing the answer, he stood up. His bags were by the door. Emily had agreed to help him move them to her place later that day. _

_He glanced over the note one last time. _

_Nora,_

_I called Emily to help me pack my bags  
I went downtown and closed the bank account  
It's not about another shrink  
It's not about another compromise  
I'm not the only one who's hurting here  
I don't know what the hell is left to do  
You never saw how far the crack had opened  
You never knew I had run out of rope and  
I could never rescue you... All you ever wanted  
But I could never rescue you  
No matter how I tried  
All I could do was love you hard  
And let you go  
No matter how I tried, all I could do was love you  
God, I loved you so  
So we could fight, or we could wait, or I could go.  
You never noticed how the wind had changed  
I didn't see a way we both could win  
Goodbye, Nora_

_- Sam_

_His hand brushed over the cold golden ring. He suddenly felt liquid welling up in his eyes, a sensation he hadn't felt for a long time. He hadn't cried since he broke his collar bone playing lacrosse his senior year of highschool, and that was only because it physically hurt so bad. This made him physically sick. He couldn't look at the ring anymore. He couldn't see her. He would break. He grabbed his coat and left the apartment. _

_Emily only lived a few blocks away, but it felt like miles with the cold of the early winter wind thrashing him about. Sam went upstairs and let himself in the apartment. The heat was on, and the room was pleasant. Emily came into the room, but didn't say a word. _

_Why did it hurt? _

_He had to get away from it. He had to do something to get rid of the pain. He grabbed Emily by the arm and swung her into a rough, needy kiss. She responded by throwing her long arms around his neck, breaking momentarily to speak._

_"Are you alright, Sam? Want to talk about it? Here, let me-"_

_This time, it was he who cut her off._

_"No. Just this. Just make me feel."_

_And so she obliged him. She gave him exactly what he wanted- passionate, fierce, powerful love that otherwise would have thrilled him to the bone. And though he knew his body was pleasured by her, he was numb. He drove into her with all the force his body could muster, but he still felt it. Maybe it would never leave him. As he laid next to Emily, holding her loosely, he felt it in the center of his body, traveling outwards. Sinking deeper. Growing colder. _

If there had ever been a time when Cathy felt like doing herself in, this was it. She felt... she almost felt worse than she had when he had left her.

_What does he think he's doing? God... this book... I have to call him._

She pulled her body off the couch and deposited the remaining icecream into the freezer. After a quick pull-it-together shower, she picked up the phone. Hoping his cell phone number was still the same as a few months ago, she let her fingers dial the familiar path. It rang.

"Hello, Jamie Wellerstein"

Cathy attempted to clear her throat quickly so her voice wouldn't waver. _What do I say? Why the hell did I call him? If I hang up quick, maybe he'll forget all about it. _

"Jamie... hi."

_Idiot... you're such a moron. If only you could shut your big mouth for one minute... _

"Cathy?"

"Hi... I mean, um, yeah, it's me. I saw you on Good Morning America today. I thought I would call and see how you were doing and- and congratulate you on your book."

"Really? Thanks. Did you," he hesitated, "did you read it?"

Her eyes swelled up again and she felt a familiar catch in her throat.

_Pull it together. _

"Yes. I just finished. Its... its amazing. I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you."

There was an awkward pause. Neither party seemed to know what to say. Jamie was first to speak.

"So... are you ok with it? I should have asked you, I know, but it just flowed right, you know? It felt good. Before I knew it, it was out there."

"I understand. You can't stop something like that. Is Elise ok with it?"

She mentally kicked herself again. _Stupid. Now you bring up the girl he cheated on you with. Real smart, Cathy._

"Actually, Elise and I... aren't seeing each other anymore."

Cathy tried to hide the surprise in her voice.

"You're not? Oh, I'm sorry."

She winced, hearing the cold sarcasm in her own voice.

"Don't be. It was inevitable. I have this thing with relationships. They get too good, I screw them up. It's a bad habit."

_Make me feel bad about it, why don't you Jamie._

"That isn't true, Jamie. You made some mistakes. Some big mistakes, granted, but you don't screw it all up... it was my fault too."

"No. I don't want to start the fault game," he sighed, taking a breath, "but I really would like to talk sometime, about the book, about how you are."

She barely hesitated.

"I might have some free time tomorrow around seven"

He chuckled.

"Still on top of everything. How about I meet you at seven at that place on 3rd with the weird lights on the front."

Somehow, she didn't find it odd that she knew exactly the restaurant he was referring to, bad-description and all.

"Alright. I'll... see you then."

"Ok. And um, Cathy?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to talk to you."

She heard a brief click, and he was gone.


	2. Stop and Start Over

_ Why are my hands shaking? This is ridiculous. It isn't even a date. _

_ Blue or green… Blue. Jamie always liked me in blue. **No.** Don't wear blue because Jamie likes blue. _

_ Ok, I'm wearing blue. **I** like blue. This is fucking stupid._

Cathy pulled the blue blouse over her head. It was a little dressy for the occasion, but she wanted to look nice. She couldn't see Jamie looking unkempt. It was 6:30. She would never make it on time.

_ Oh well… he knows that already_

She pulled half of her hair back and clipped it into place.

_ Can we really do this? _

_ Can we be friends? _

After emptying the contents of her current bag into a different, much more stylish purse, she walked out of the apartment.

Jamie clocked her in at approximately 7:09. She was decently punctual. He was a bit surprised. He stood up at the small table, where he had already downed the majority of a beer. Cathy bounded in, the calmly composed herself, smoothing her silk blouse and crisp gray trousers.

_ Stay Cool, Cathy._

She walked over to the table and met his glance

"Hey, Jamie."

He very suddenly drew her into a slightly awkward embrace. Though brief and quite tense, it put her a bit more at ease.

"It's good to see you." He said gently, pulling out her chair and seating her.

"Thanks. You too."

He sat himself on the other side of the circular table and took a gulp of his beer.

"You want a soda? Some water? Something alcoholic?"

"Whatever you have is fine"

_ Why not? I don't work till tomorrow night. Not like I plan on getting completely trashed or anything. That would be not so good. But having a few beers isn't going to…_

_ Oh god…_

_ Don't smile, Jamie. Don't do that to me._

"So Cathy. Tell me what you thought. I want your honest reaction to the book."

She smiled.

"My first reaction?" she asked sweetly

"Sure. Absolutely."

She paused.

"I wanted to strangle you."

Jamie laughed, running a hand through his hair.

"I can understand that."

She hesitated shortly, before giving up.

_ Be honest. Just tell him what you thought._

"It was real. It hurt. I guess I can't really give you an objective point of view."

"That's it?"

"What do you mean 'that's it'?" she scoffed, rubbing her eyes briefly

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't press you for this. It's just… well, it's important to me, that's all."

"Your writing has always been important to you, Jamie. It is your first love, after all."

"That's not what I meant, Cathy."

"You expect me to rate this book like I don't know exactly what it's about by the first fucking line? Like I'm not in it?"

"Can we not do this?"

"Like I just picked it up off the shelf because it was under some "bestsellers" sign with an attractive picture next to it?"

"No. Absolutely not. What I was trying to say was that- " he stopped. "Attractive picture?"

"Mildly." She smiled half-heartedly, attempting any witty repartee that might work as she rubbed her already swollen eyes once again. "I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't be. I should have called you a long time ago about this. It was too personal."

"A bit. But I'm over it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Ok, maybe not quite, but I have about a pint of ice cream at home that tells me I'm almost there."

He kneaded his hands together under the table. It became apparent to her that he was actually nervous. Super cool author Jamie Wellerstein, caught off guard. He straightened up a bit, attempting to instigate any form of conversation other than him making a fool out of himself.

Again.

"So…You know what I've been doing, obviously."

"We went over it."

"Yeah, so, what about you?"

"Well, um, ok. I did a national tour for six months. "South Pacific". It was… good. It was a good show."

"I saw a review in the paper. They said you were 'charming' and the show was 'cohesive and sincere'"

"For a tour, I guess."

"Come on, give yourself some credit. It was great."

"It was good. I already said that. I mean, it was a tour. Larger scale than anything I've ever done, and i was paid more for sure, but it was no award winner." She paused, reviewing his statement. "You saw it?"

"I was in Ithaca for a book signing at Cornell."

"Oh, that's… great"

"Was it fun? I mean, the actual touring thing. Did you like it?"

"I did, after the first month or so. It was hard, being new, and being… you know, the lead and stuff. The understudy who had been in the role was really ticked when they didn't just let her take it over after the last woman left. It was a hard month anyway. After that, though, it perked up. There were some really nice people. It's just hard being around actors for so long. My closest friends there ended up being in the band. They were a bit more level-headed."

He nodded, obviously interested in what she way saying. He didn't zone out. He didn't answer his cell phone when it was obviously vibrating in his pocket. He didn't even interrupt to ask for details. He just sat there looking at her, listening.

"I'm glad it was only for nine months, though. It was great to see the country and everything, but I missed home. I guess I realized that as much as I wanted to get away, New York was my home and I couldn't just leave it."

"What are you doing now?"

She blushed. She had been waiting for this. Now embarrassment ensued.

"I'm waiting tables."

_ Shoot. Real high class, Cathy. Can you maybe elaborate and not sound like a blabbering idiot?_

"It's a place with singing waiters and stuff"

_ Oh, so much better. You're a class A now._

"Do you can-can, too?"

He caught himself right as he ended the sentence, wondering if maybe a joke was not such a good idea… but she smirked.

"Only on Fridays."

The waited brought the check, and Jamie picked it up without a second thought. It wasn't awkward, it was second nature. Cathy – dinner – pay – home – argue - sex. Ok, so maybe it wasn't all second nature anymore, but old habits die hard. He had learned that recently.

Jamie had been happy with Elise. They lived in a small apartment with little living space. He had learned to write in his office. A few months after the divorce, he had switched agents. It just seemed like something he needed to do to get a fresh start. Plus, with one mildly successful book already out, he had credentials. He thought that arguing was normal. It was his inherent nature to twist situations, and that wouldn't change.

As the months passed, though, Jamie realized that it wasn't something he had to do. He realized that his arguing with Elise was much different from arguing with Cathy. He argued with Elise because he wasn't happy. He argued with Cathy because he was worried they both wouldn't be. He finally realized that he could never love Elise. After admitting it to himself, he accidentally admitted it to her, and that was the end of that.

Now, he was back at square one, it seemed. It was almost a new life. He had a taste of fame and fortune, but after that, he was just Jamie. He closed his wallet and shoved it in his pocket.

"So, I'll uh, walk you home?"

"It's 21 blocks."

"I know."

"Okay."

Cathy mentally kicked herself in the shin for about the twentieth time that evening.

_ This cannot lead to good things. Well, ok, so it could lead to good things but… no. Tipsy Cathy bad judgments. Bad. Bad bad bad. _

They began their hike, both knowing that it would take a good 30 or 40 minutes to walk to the apartment in the dark. Cathy was the first to speak up, not being able to tolerate silence.

"Where are you staying?"

"With one of my editors, for now."

She sighed.

_ Typical. Bet she's 5'8" and 125 pounds._

"Hey, I see that look. **He's** giving me a place to stay while my new place gets painted."

She blushed. "Where is it? Your new place, I mean."

"I can show you. We'll pass it in a few minutes."

"It's insanely huge, isn't it?"

"No. Ok, so maybe a little. Compared to everywhere else I've lived in this city, yes."

"Well, hey, if you've got the money, you might as well."

"I guess. I just like the area. Very artsy, but not really stuck-up. I hear Michael Crichton owns the floor above me."

"Really? That's too cool. So you'll be neighbors with Michael Crichton? Do you think he'll bring welcome jell-o when you move in?"

He laughed. "Not likely. It's one of about 10 places he own or rents."

"I can understand that. Why be in New York in the winter when you can be in Miami?"

"Because it's fucking gorgeous. I can't wait for snow. It'll be soon."

"I was scared I was going to have to stand trembling in my character shoes at my audition yesterday."

"Next week, maybe. I'd get the fluff coat out."

"Are you kidding? I already have! I wore it to the audition. I can't believe I didn't bring it tonight."

"You cold?"

"Oh, no, just a little"

He pulled his jacket off and slipped it around her shoulders.

_ Warm. He wore a suit. Very nice. _

"Thanks"

"No problem. I'm always too warm."

"I know"

He smiled.

"Here we are."

A well-dressed doorman quickly greeted him formally, opening the door and tipping his hat to Cathy. She paused, and Jamie turned to face her.

"You coming?"


	3. Take a Step

_Okay. I leave now, no harm done. I go home, have my ice cream, then go to sleep. Okay. I stay, go up and see his place, get upset, go home, have my ice cream, then go to sleep. Okay. This isn't working._

"Yeah, I'm coming."

He pressed the elevator button, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

"It's on the fourth floor."

"Right. Fourth floor." She pressed the button again, for no apparent reason.

"I hope the painting is done- it's supposed to be completely ready by tomorrow, and I was going to move in Wednesday. The big stuff is already there, but I have to move it around."

They walked out into the hallway.

_Hmm. There are only two doors. This is puzzling. _

Jamie pulled out his keys and opened the first door. He flipped on a light switch and walked into the apartment. There was still plastic on the floor and all the furniture was in the first room covered in sheets. It was pretty big.

_He must have most of the floor. An entire floor. How nice. _

"So, um, I could give you the tour, I guess"

"Sounds good"

"All right. Over here," he paused, "we've got the living room area thing, and I guess what you could call the breakfast place or whatever"

"Breakfast nook?"

"Yeah."

"And you're the _Times_ Bestseller?"

"Funny, right?" he laughed, then walked into another room. "This is the kitchen, and it's got a swinging door that does into what I think is supposed to be a dining room."

They passed through the kitchen into a large hallway that spanned the back of the building, opening up into a small sitting area in the center with a porch attached.

"So this first room I think I'm going to make a guest room, you know, for when the family comes over." He opened the door to the next room, which was directly in front of the porch. "This is the master bedroom. I think the porch looks out onto a common garden. I've always wanted a place on the top floor, you know, with a roof all to myself, but I'm pretty sure that was out of my price range."

"You have a price range?" she asked, glancing around the room, "Because I'm not really seeing that."

"It's there, believe me. I think the editors and publishers got more than me. The last room is an office. I'm not really sure what to do with it yet, you know, decoration wise, but I guess I'll just figure it out later."

She opened the last door. "It's just white"

"I know, I know. I'll probably just," he smiled, "paper my walls with rejection letters or something."

"Original."

"Yeah. It would depress me anyways. I guess I'm not enough of a writer to do that quite yet."

"Of course not. Especially being, did I mention, the _Times_ Bestseller."

"I do my best." He blushed, "It wasn't just me, though. I uh, I had…help. Ready to go?"

"Yeah"

They walked out of the apartment, both smelling slightly of wet paint, and boarded the elevator.

Cathy folded her arms loosely, blushing slightly.

_How weird is this… Feels like we just met or something. Well, maybe not like we just met, but something like that. Wandering thoughts a bit, Cathy?_

They silently walked outside and turned the corner, heading back towards the old apartment. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't quite comfortable either. Jamie couldn't stand the silence.

"So… any auditions coming up?"

Cathy let out a sigh of relief for the reintroduction of normal conversation.

"Yeah, a few, you know. There's always a few. I have a callback Wednesday for a new show – and those are always risky, but I'm hopeful."

"Excellent."

"We'll see. It'll be a welcome change, though. A few less girls than the normal cattle calls."

"Yeah. And the Restaurant?"

"What about it?"

"Well, you didn't say much about it."

"Frankly, I was a bit embarrassed to be waitressing again. But it's alright. It's a nice place and people generally tip well."

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She smiled.

"Don't be. I'm proud of you."

And suddenly, she realized that she meant it. She wasn't jealous of Jamie. She was excited and happy that he had finally gotten to the place he had always wanted to be. The only that upset her was that she wasn't there with him.

_Stop it._

She tried as hard as she could to push such thoughts out of her mind.

Jamie, meanwhile, was a bit dumbstruck. She was _proud_? No witty repartee? No cold, insulting, yet slightly funny remark?

"Thanks. That… means a lot to me."

They paused outside the door to the building.

"Can I walk you up?"

"Sure"

The stairs were almost too familiar to both of them.

He remembered the first time they had walked together up to their new, third floor apartment. She had gripped his hand tight and grinned as they pushed through the door to the bare, empty space that was _theirs_.

He remembered bounding up the stairs to show her– to tell her he had finally gotten an offer on his first book.

He remembered how the suitcase clunked as it came down.

They reached the apartment door a bit too quickly. Neither really knew of anything else to say.

_Just don't say anything stupid._

"I… had a really nice time"

_Too late._

Jamie rocked forward on the balls of his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Me too. I really think… I think we should do this again. I want to keep in touch. I owe it to you."

She nodded.

"Yeah, you do"

His lips curved and pursed slightly as he chuckled.

"I'll call you."

She reached to unlock the door, but was caught slightly off guard by his hand on her shoulder. She turned her head, and was met by a gentle kiss on her cheek. Her mind told her to slap him – to slam the door in his face and go to bed… but she didn't. She simply blushed, uttered a quiet "goodnight", and walked inside, pressing her back against the closed door.

_What the fuck…_

Quick Author's Note

As you all have noticed, Cathy's thoughts have been (up to this point) notated by _italics_. I would love some feedback on this. Also, its getting to the point where I feel the need to share Jamie's thoughts in addition to Cathy's, and I am considering using **bold **text to denote it. Please share your thoughts on this. Would giving Jamie's thoughts give too much away? Is it necessary? All feedback, negative or positive, would be greatly appreciated.


	4. Barely Even Breathing

Jamie clenched his teeth as he watched Cathy close the door in front of him.

**What are you doing, Jamie?**

He walked down the stairs.

And tripped.

Barely, but he caught himself on the wall.

**I need some liquor. **

Walking out of the building, his eyes twitched slightly from the incoming cold, and landed on a certain window on the third floor.

**Quite a bit of liquor.**

He had no clue what he was thinking. Dinner with her, walking her home, the door in his face – it all made him feel about 2 feet tall. He needed an ego boost. Or liquor. Or any form of alcohol or general debauchery. Well, maybe not debauchery- that could lead to trouble. Maybe just a guys-night of drinking and cursing and being manly.

The walk home was not fun. Not fun because he was grouchy- even worse because he was returning to an empty apartment covered in plastic and white sheets.

**Guess its home, though. **

After his trek, Jamie collapsed into his comfy chair, beer in hand, and picked up the phone. It amused him slightly that the two things not covered in sheets were his chair and the phone.

**Please God just be there**

"Yeah?" a low voice choked out

"I think I might have just endangered my mental state indefinitely."

"Jamie? You do realize it's 2 in the morning."

"I'm not kidding. I've royally screwed myself. More than usual."

"Ok, I'm awake. What'd you do?"

"I just had dinner with Cathy."

"I'll be right over."

A brief click was followed by a series of annoying beeps, until Jamie finally put the receiver back on the hook. He sunk deeper into the soft chocolate leather and tipped the beer vertically, not noticing the general emptiness of it. Finally, the door opened.

Tom.

What a guy.

Tom was one of the only friends that hadn't scoffed and turned their nose up at Jamie after he and Cathy split. All the couples sided with her, except for a few that called once his book came out. Tom had been there since, well, he had been pre-Cathy. His first roommate at Colombia before he called it quits.

Tom was a massive guy- very professional athlete-looking; except he managed real estate in the city. He always looked sharp- his short, well groomed dark hair was spiked up ever-so-slightly (with waxy stuff, he had told Jamie, never gel, because that was too greasy car salesman), and he sported trendy faded jeans, a polo, and an overcoat that Jamie assumed was worth more than most of his furniture. He carried a 6-pack in one hand, and a handle of Jack Daniels in the other.

"Choose your weapon" he muttered to Jamie, the bottles clunking as he set them down on the newly finished kitchen counter.

"Where'd you get a handle of Jack at 2 in the morning?"

"Had a spare."

"You had a spare handle in your- - never mind," he paused, looking around for a moment, "I think the glasses are in the box by the corner."

Tom shuffled over to the boxes and began sifting through for something suitable to drink out of- or really, anything that would retain fluid long enough to drink it. About an hour later, after their blood alcohol levels were considerably higher, Tom began the questioning process.

"So what happened?"

**Thank God for guys. No screwing around, just straight to the point.**

"She called me"

"Why?"

"She read the book"

That turned his head.

"And?"

"I dono. She said it was good. I mean, she thought it was great and well written and everything, but it rattled her."

"Understandable- I mean, you kind of wrote things she probably wouldn't have told a perfect stranger- like that part about the peanut butter, you know? Oh, and the baby names, that one probably- -"

"Ok, ok, I know, but it's not like most of it isn't fiction"

"Liar"

"Ok, so most of it _was_ true… that's not the big deal though"

"Then what is?"

"I asked her out. To dinner. Remember, I told you on the phone."

"Well," Tom furrowed his brow, "Shit."

"Yeah. So we had dinner tonight."

"And?"

"And it was so… so…"

"Bad? Horrible? Disgusting? Never want to see her again?"

"New." Jamie sighed, tipping the bottle and filling his glass again. "It was new."

"Different?"

"Not quite. I mean, a little. But good. Really, really, really… good."

"You're gone."

"What?"

Tom chuckled. "You're _gone_, man. I guess I figured you two would eventually end up-"

"_What?_" Jamie scoffed, running his hand nervously through his hair, "No no no no no, you don't understand. It wasn't even a date **I don't think **and it's not like we're going to be all chummy after this **not that that would be a bad thing** so just back off, ok?"

"Cool it, Jamie, you're just freaked out." Tom took the glass from his friends hand and took it over to the sink. "You need to figure out what's going on in that head of yours, and you need to do it when you're calmed down and sober."

"No, I think I know now. I think I do, Tom."

"You're drunk, Jamie- borderline smashed- so just go to bed, I'll crash on the couch, and tomorrow you can figure it out."

"No, listen to me! I think- I think I know. I think I know what this book was supposed to do for me."

Tom glanced over his shoulder.

"I don't think- I mean- I don't know if-" he sighed deeply, pulling his legs underneath him to sit "Indian-style" on the oversized chair,

"I think I'm still in love with Cathy."


	5. The Rules Do Not Apply

Cathy slid down the wall and plopped onto the floor. She shivered and pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders. It was _freezing_. She touched her cheek. Warm… and wet. When had she started crying? Pulling herself up off the ground, she hustled over to the apartment's shoddy heat and cooling system that was who knows how old. The heat was not on, of course. She had turned it off when she left the house – no need waste money – and now it would take at least an hour for the place to warm up entirely.

She nibbled on her slightly chapped bottom lip and hurried into the bedroom, quickly shedding her pretty outfit and replacing it with flannel pajama pants and a fleece pullover. Cathy grabbed the oversized down comforter off the bed and dragged it to the couch.

_Mmm, comfy._

_Remote. Where's the remote…damn…_

Throwing the covers off, Cathy jumped off the couch and ran frantically around the room searching for the coveted item.

The search finally concluded on the kitchen counter underneath 5 back issues of the Times. The tile was cold and her feet were bare – so she quickly grabbed a diet coke and threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave. 3 minutes later, buttery goodness filled the air, and soon, her aching stomach. She didn't turn the TV on. The relentless remote search was forgotten as she, trying to prevent said buttery goodness from tarnishing her lovely comforter, fell into deep thought, followed by an equally powerful sleep.

She awoke suddenly the following day with an unpleasant knock on the door. Glancing at the microwave, she realized that not only was it no longer morning, it was afternoon. She had planned lunch with her cousin, who was most definitely banging down the door at that precise moment. She scurried over to the door, attempting to unstick random locks of hair from her face. After managing the locks, she opened the door.

"Hey."

Her dear cousin did not look amused. Sharon was not only Cathy's cousin, she was her best friend and frequent mode of transportation.

"I thought we were going out. You look like shit."

"Yeah, about that… I, um, well… lets stay in. It's cold. I'll heat up some soup or something."

"Mmm, appetizing." Sharon muttered, pushing her way into the apartment, "So, long night?"

_You don't know the half of it._

"I guess. I went out with Jamie."

"You're kidding me. Why?"

"Well… we _were_ married."

"Yeah, then he was a complete prick, you got divorced, end of story."

"Not quite. We just needed to talk about his book and stuff, that's all."

"What, he needed to brag and make you feel bad?"

"No. Look, Sharon, I'm fine. It was… fine. I mean, it caught me off guard is all."

Sharon looked up at her from underneath the kitchen counter, where she was searching for anything along the lines of soup.

"I just worry about you, is all."

"I know," Cathy replied, grabbing a can of Clam Chowder and plopping it into a large bowl, "and thanks, but I can handle myself around Jamie. I don't need you to protect me."

_I think… I mean, so what if he left and I was all with the crying and butter and sleeping and all… doesn't mean a thing._

Cathy grabbed a can of Chunky-potato-and-some-odd-other-stuff soup and scooped it into the bowl with the clam mess.

_Eh, it'll taste ok._

She held the pot under the faucet and turned on the water. How much, she didn't know, but if it tasted weird she would add pepper or ham or something. She mentally went over her tasks for the next few days. Today, Tuesday – Dinner shift at 5:00. Tomorrow – Callback, thank God. Thursday – off day - thanking whatever holy powers might exist for that one as well. The curious mixture inside the pot began to simmer, so Cathy grabbed two bowls from an overhead cabinet and poured an equal amount into both.

"Bon Appétit," she said breathily, setting the bowls onto the kitchen table, "If it's weird… don't tell me."

"Right."

Sharon spooned a large dose of clam-potato choup (that's chowder _and_ soup) into her exceedingly wide mouth.

"You know," she slurped, "kinda sucks, you know, the timing of all this"

"And by that you mean…"

"Well you know, the book, the money – I mean – God, the man must be rolling in money _now_ but of course when you did him a favor and married him he barely had enough for the apartment."

"So what?" Cathy pushed a chunk of potato in circles in her bowl, "That's how things work out. It's just my luck. Speaking of which, I have work later and a callback tomorrow so-"

"Don't change the subject! Cathy, he used your personal story for his own profit."

"That's what he does – he's a writer!"

"Stop defending him."

"I'm not defending him, Sharon, I'm just saying that Jamie doesn't owe me anything."

"Are you sure?"

For a moment, the bickering ceased. Cathy pushed the full bowl away from her and stood up.

"I don't know. I really just don't know."

Sharon sighed briefly before clearing the table. Cathy returned to her comfy chair and waited for Sharon to join her in the small living area.

"I'm sorry," Sharon mumbled, sitting on the ground at Cathy's feet, "I just feel like he's still walking all over you. That's your story – he wouldn't have had that story if you hadn't been around, so I mean, maybe you're entitled to something."

"What, like – like money?"

"Maybe"

"Sharon, I don't want Jamie's money. I don't need anymore than he has to give me. It's humiliating enough waiting for a check from him every month anyways."

"But maybe some of it is rightfully yours! Come on, Cathy, you know you're struggling here. You could afford to pay off your rent for awhile. Maybe take some time off from work, take some classes, go to more auditions…"

"You think I should sue Jamie?"

"Sort of. Maybe. Yeah."

Cathy pulled her blanket up over her head.

"Hey, I'm going to go. Call me. Really."

Sharon quickly grabbed her coat, letting the door slam behind her.

**_Author's Note: Hey friends, it's been awhile. I am truly sorry for the delay, but see, there's this thing called college… yeah. Anyways, I'm settled down now so another chapter will be forthcoming. Also, I am thinking to employ some different techniques, so as usual, be open-minded, but let me know what you think. Much love._**


	6. Shove an Ice Pick In My Eye

Her hair was neatly pulled back with a lovely yet simple pin. She didn't wear a dress this time. She wore sleek black trousers with a soft flare, her most expensive heels, and a gentle blue button-down with a dark grey sweater over it. She might as well have been on _The Apprentice_. But, the callback was for a drama, and Cathy was doing her best not to be campy or musical-theatre-esque in any way. She totally did drama.

_I totally don't do drama._

She walked into the room exactly 20 minutes early. Auditions were the only thing she ever showed up on time for, and it was always exactly 20 minutes early. 30 minutes is trying to hard, 10 is a bit lacking, but 20 is just right. Goldilocks principle. With her bottled-water and resume folder at her side, she took a seat. There were 3 girls already there. Surprisingly, they all looked around her age.

_Good, so I'm not a geezer quite yet. Thank God I didn't wear that dress. Too much, honey. Ew, and they eye makeup – come on. She's only a few pounds lighter than me. Probably a dancer. Strung out, too. Definitely._

A few more young women entered – there were 12 total when three neatly dressed gentlemen came in and took their seats at a table in the front of the room. An assistant passed out scripts to all the women – they were given several scenes to look at, and about 30 minutes to go over the material.

Cathy always hated this part. Well, not just this part, she hated a whole lot of it, and not the part where you go over a script – that was actually fun, but the part where every single girl was muttering, practicing faces, trying to choose which obnoxious hand movements to use – that she hated. She read the scenes. She instantly knew the character. It was a good fit for her – a slightly neurotic woman who never went out with the same guy twice and ended up head over heels for an underling coworker.

It seemed like a trite storyline at first, but the writing was fresh and gave a nice twist to familiar situations that audiences would love. Her stomach began to rumble… she wanted the part. She was invested now – it wasn't going to be one of those east callbacks where you're instantly dismissed and can forget about it – this disappointment would linger… unless she did well.

_Must kick ass. Must completely, utterly kick ass. Make a choice, Cathy – make a choice on the character and stick with it – that's what you have to do. Breathe. Oh my God this girl is horrible. _

The woman reading was not the best.

_Courtesy callback._

Cathy mentally reprimanded herself for thinking not-nice thoughts. Karma really could be a bitch. She brushed a piece of hair out of her face, casually trying to make sure her hair didn't look horrible. She took a sip of water.

The door to the room cracked, then opened fully.

"Thank you – yes, thank you, you may sit down please." One of the men sitting at the table spouted, putting the girl out of her misery and standing up to meet the person who had just entered the room. The other two men stood as well.

Sensing commotion, Cathy looked up from her daze.

_Oh God_

Her eyes widened, and she nearly choked and died on the spot.

Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse…

It was going to be an interminable afternoon.


	7. The Torture Is Just Exquisite

Jamie stepped casually over to the table and shook hands with the men, who were obviously thrilled. The man in the middle of the table – the obvious head of the group – twinkled as he grasped Jamie's hand and presented him to the room of aspiring actresses.

"Ladies, we are so lucky to have with us one of the collaborating writers of our script-"

"Cathy" Jamie blinked, not quite believing the situation.

**She's going to kill me.**

Cathy squirmed in her seat, looking down. The previously interrupted man was apparently clueless of the awkwardness, and continued.

"Mr. Jamie Wellerstein! Jamie – we weren't really sure you would be dropping by-" the man pulled another chair behind the table, "but please, sit down, we were just moving on"

Jamie smiled uncomfortably and sat. "Thanks, George. I don't want to be any trouble…"

George smiled good-naturedly. "We were just taking turns with the reading, Jamie, but you're the writer – would you care to oblige the lucky ladies?"

"Um… sure, if you want."

George glanced down at his paper. "Next – number 624 – Cathy We--"

"Hiatt" she cut him off, "Cathy Hiatt."

The man looked to her. Then to Jamie. Then back to her. He furrowed his brow and leaned in to the center of the table.

"Is this okay, Jamie? I'm sorry, we didn't realize… if this is going to be a problem we can…"

"No, no, it's fine" Jamie protested, taking up the script.

"Alright then," George stated again to the group, "Page 65 then, if you're sure, starting with Josh: I don't drink coffee – third line from the top"

Jamie bit his lip. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it well.

"I don't drink coffee." He delivered the line matter-of-factly.

"What?" She replied off the script in front of her, wanting to only to leave… but she needed this job. God, she was almost to the point of belting _A Chorus Line_- so even though she wanted to throw up all over her beautiful, masterfully talented ex-husband, she pulled herself together and melted seamlessly into character.

"I don't drink coffee" He repeated.

"Yes you do" she replied almost cattily, "I see you drink it every morning."

"First of all," he smiled at his own writing, "I always have a hot beverage in the morning – yes – but it is not coffee. I have tea, or hot chocolate, or – or cider or something. Second, why are you paying special attention to what I drink in the mornings, huh?"

"Cider?" she asked comically, "You drink cider?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?" She crossed her legs, sitting up and leaning forward slightly.

"The point is – you watch me." He pursed his lips, eyes twinkling.

"I do not!"

"You do to! I know you try to hide it, but you're not as vain and arrogant as people think you are – you care what we're doing around here."

"Yeah, well, I'm sort of in charge you know – it's my job to make sure you all work – if that's what you call _care…_And how would you know that I was watching you if you weren't already watching me?"

They took a scripted pause.

"That's what I thought. Now get back to work" she growled. The stage directions noted that at the end of said scene, "Shannon", who had been leaning coyly on "Josh's" desk, smacks him smartly on the behind. Cathy giggled, before remembering that she was supposed to dislike Jamie right now. So she did.

George smiled and nodded, "Thank you, and the scene on 106 if that's okay, Jamie"

He looked to Cathy, who looked blankly back at him. "Yeah, that's fine George."

The stage directions placed the two characters in bed – an early morning, cuddly type scenario that made both readers crave rat poison.

"This isn't going to work" Cathy read, mentally slapping herself for being born.

"What – Why?"

"Not as long as I'm your boss. It can't."

"Then fire me."

"Don't be stupid"

"I'm serious, Shannon – fire me, right now."

"I've never fired anybody before, Josh, and I'm not about to-"

"If you don't fire me then I'll quit"

"Josh, if I fire you then you're out of work. You don't get paid, you can't pay your rent, you can't afford food and you become a pauper or a leper or something then you come back here and become dependent on me because the job market is so bad right now and no one is hiring and then we start to hate each other because we can't talk about the situation but you're mad because of the no-job gender-role-reversal thing and I'm mad because I let it happen in the first place then we break up after a huge fight and can never talk again because we're so mad and everything is just ruined..."

She took a breath, sighed, and closed her eyes. "You don't want that."

Jamie, in his signature fashion, ran a hand through his hair. "What I want is to lay here with you without worrying about company policy or making a scene. I just want to hold you… and – and give you a reason to be late"

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Josh."

"Sorry - - for what?"

"I'm sorry, because…" she paused, drunk in his stare, before smiling – and speaking again, "because while the company finds it necessary to end their relationship with you… I find it necessary to… um, to start one."

"So, flowery language aside – you're firing me?" he grinned.

"Yeah, Josh. You're fired."

And they held the look – for maybe too long – breaking only when the next girl's name was called. Cathy blushed. Never in her life had she felt something so exhilaratingly miserable. Her stomach rumbled. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to drive out all the uncomfortable, anxious, giddy feelings that swarmed her. She looked down and closed her eyes.

----

The last 3 auditions were largely ignored. Well, one of the producers was watching, but Jamie was pretty sure no one else was. Cathy had kicked ass. She didn't know it, but she had. Two or three other girls had done alright, but Cathy had been stellar. Jamie read with the next two, then excused himself to get a bottle of water.

The entire room was fidgety. They were the folk of the theatre - everyone knew something gossipy was going down, and they were not going to miss it. If there was one thing a struggling actress loved, it was getting good, smearable gossip regarding another struggling actress, especially gossip concerning a potential love affair with a director, producer, author, theatre owner, etc.

Jamie returned just as the last audition was ending. He was very glad about that. Sitting through even one more audition would not be fun. At this point, the men had their lists made. Of that he was sure.

**Shit. What if they don't cast her just because of me? No. They wouldn't do that. Okay, what if it starts a big scandal about how they only cast her because of me? Okay… no, that wouldn't happen either. Okay. **

George closed his notebook.

"Final callbacks will be Wednesday. If you do not receive a call by Monday, thanks for your time."

They stood. Chatter began – some of the women left immediately, some stood around and spoke quietly to one another. A few went directly to the table to schmooze. The men weren't swayed, however. They wanted to do some schmoozing of their own.


	8. I'm Not No, I'm Not

"Jamie!" George clasp his hand tightly "Such an unexpected pleasure for you to join us."

He smiled.

"Really George, you guys don't have to… you know - "

"Jamie, you're the author! If this takes off like we think it will, you're going to be even bigger than you are now."

He spotted her, and patted the other man on his back. "Okay, well uh… I'll talk to you gentlemen in – actually, why don't you just give me a call later."

Cathy glanced up to see Jamie walking towards her.

_Party time._

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Can we maybe… step outside or something?"

She nodded. He held the door as they walked into the hallway.

"Hiatt?"

_Oh dear._

"It seemed necessary."

_Damn it, Jamie, I had to. Did you want me to make a scene? And what's the problem with it anyways? It's not like I've been Mrs. Wellerstein for some time now._

"You did well in there."

"So did you."

"but I'm not up for the lead"

"You can't honestly tell me I'm still being considered."

"I can't honestly tell you that you're not"

"They can't afford to make a scene with this."

"Do you realize the amount of publicity this could get them?"

"There is such a thing as negative publicity, Jamie."

He laughed. "Not really…"

She sighed, frustrated. "Look, I'm going to go."

"Okay then. See you Wednesday."

She turned. "Excuse me?"

"Callbacks. They're Wednesday."

"Jamie, this isn't right. You shouldn't be - "

"Alright, alright, I get it. I'll stay out of it." He smiled. "See you Wednesday."

She watched him turn and rejoin the other men in the audition room, letting out a massive breath of hot air. Stomping her old character shoes obnoxiously, she exited the building.


	9. A Horrible Annoying Distraction

Sorry it's been so long kids! I'll try to crank a couple out this week. This one is for Caitlin – thanks for the email!

Jamie eased his head back out the audition room door, watching the stairwell door close.

**Well she looks good. **

"Ah-hem," George cleared his throat, "So, you want me to take care of this?"

Jamie whirled around, embarrassed. "Do what?"

"Well, you want me or Chris to call her or do you, for some godforsaken reason, want to do it?"

"About the callbacks? You should call her. It'll sound more official that way."

He paused.

"Wait. We're not quite on the same page here, are we?"

Chris shook his head.

"Come on, Jamie, you honestly want your ex-wife starring in your first Broadway play?"

"She was the best one in that room, by miles."

"Even so," George interrupted, "there would be press. Especially with the way your book is doing. You'd both have to go through it."

"Look, you shouldn't even have to consider our history – romantically or matrimonially or whatever. If she's right for the role, then she's right for it, end of story. It's not like I ever considered her for it before toady… but she might be just what the script calls for. So might those other two girls we were looking at."

"So… we call her back?" George stammered.

**Yes, you idiot.**

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Well. I'll make the calls tonight, and see you gentlemen tomorrow at noon for our lunch."

Jamie grabbed his bag and headed down the stairs.

**Thank God I've got the night off to relax.**

He flipped open his phone – a fancy new thing he barely knew how to use – he preferred his old one that didn't fit into his pocket. Checking, as Tom had taught him, the "txt msg" box.

**Oh this is just great.**

MSG: Can't wait for tonight

FROM: Melissa

CALLBACK: 2128481268

In all the chaos of the past few days, he had forgotten about Melissa – the tall, leggy redhead who was writing an exclusive on Jamie, his book, and his new play in _Vogue_. Apparently, she claimed, they were doing a special on attractive up-and-coming authors. Of course he didn't mind being thought of as an attractive up-and-coming author, but after the other night talking to Tom – yes, he remembered the conversation - he wondered if going out to dinner with a really, really hot woman was the best idea.

**Of course, if I'm really still in love with Cathy, it won't matter, right?**


	10. I Will Not be the Girl

Cathy continued her way down the stairs, fumbling through her purse.

_Where is it where is it where is it… okay okay got it_

She punched in the numbers quickly and held the phone close to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Sharon?"

"Yeah… what's up?"

A sniffle came through the phone.

"Cathy… what is it? Okay look if that audition or callback or whatever went bad, just forget it. They're all jerks. Cathy?"

_Oh God oh God oh God_

"Sharon," she mumbled through quick, tense breaths, "Sharon I've gotta… oh God…"

"Okay slow down for a minute – breathe – what happened?"

"That audition - - that 'new play' – you know, the one that wanted a 'fresh face'?"

"Yeah?"

"He wrote it."

"Who wrote it?"

"Jamie wrote it"

"Oh God"

"I know"

"Okay. Where are you now?"

"Getting a cab back to the apartment"

"Okay stay calm, I'll meet you there."

Cathy curled up on the couch.

_Seems like I end up in this position a lot lately. _

_Damn._

_Damn damn damn._

All she had needed was some time away from him – the past couple of days were a blur of Jamie-ness. The book, the phone call, the apartment – his apartment, back to their apartment – her apartment, the audition - it was all too much.

She grabbed her comforter – still on the sofa from the night before – and pulled it over her head. She had slept on the couch that night – sleep just hadn't come in that bed. Sort of like right after he left. She had slept on Sharon's couch for over a month. Even after she moved back to the apartment, it was hard to think of it as her bed, not theirs – her apartment, her sofa, her kitchen – she hadn't been able to straighten it out. It took time. Almost a year – the tour helped, getting back to the city was hard, but Cathy was just about ready to declare herself healed – ready to move on. Then this.

"Cathy, honey, I'm sorry."

Sharon had let herself in.

"It's okay," Cathy replied, poking her head out from under the blanket, "I just need to get this out of my system, you know? Have a little pity party, then get back to work. I'm going to another audition Friday, so maybe, you know…"

"Yeah, that'll be good," she smiled, pushing her cousin to a sitting position and taking a place on the couch next to her, "Maybe you should call that guy back. I thought you said you had a good feeling about him?"

"Who, Steven? Oh. Well… It's only been, what, two days since he called – all this has been happening – I just figured…"

"Come on, call him up. You deserve it. He's hot. He's successful. He's available"

"You're right. You're absolutely right."

She pushed the blanket aside and grabbed her purse off the coffee table.

MISSED 2 CALLS

Cathy fumbled around with the phone, attempted to find out who these missed calls might be from.

_Probably Mom… wanting to know if I got the part or not. Boy, is she in for a surprise._

MISSED CALLS

**X **9174834975

4:04 PM

**X **Jamie

4:35 PM

_Well this is just great. _

"I'm going to go ahead and check my voice mail."

She pressed and held "1", entered her password, and waited.

"You have two new messages.

First new message: 'Cathy, hello, this is George Randall. We'd like to see you one more time for the role of Shannon. We'll see you Wednesday at noon. If you have any questions or problems, give us a call."

Next message: 'Hey… it's me. Just wanted to call and say congrats. See you Wednesday. Don't freak out.

End of messages"

_Hurmph…_

"Don't freak out… what did he mean by…"

"What did who mean? What, what is it?" Sharon interrupted.

"I got another callback. And Jamie says congratulations and for me not to freak out."

"This is weird."

"Tell me about it. First I don't talk to the guy for almost a year – except for those weird lawyer-money-talks, and now I'm in competition for the lead in his play and he's calling me to say 'congrats'?"

"Yeah. Definitely weird."

"What do I do?"

"What else can you do? You go to the callback."

"Okay. Okay yes. That's probably a good idea. There's no way they're going to do that though."

"You never know"

"But what about Jamie?"

"What about him?"

"What do I do about Jamie?"

"Nothing. You do exactly what you've done for a year now. You move on."

"Okay I'm not 'not' moving on, I'm just saying that we're going to have to see each other again, and we might as well be civil. We had a nice conversation yesterday. It was fun."

"Nice conversation? Fun? Oh God."

"What?"

"I can see it in your eyes."

"I don't like where this is going."

"You feel something for-"

"Don't go there Sharon. Don't do it."

Cathy stood.

"I don't, and I won't. He left me. A year ago. It's over, it's done. I won't… I can't do that again. Sure, he's Jamie – he's got that something about him – but I… I will not go there. We're going to be friends. We can do that. We're both civilized adults."

"I know, honey, it's just that… you have trouble when it comes to him. You have trouble not… falling, hard and fast."

"I won't give him that. He thinks he's still got that power over me and its just not true. I won't be that girl again, Sharon, I just won't. I'm over it. I'm… I'm calling Steven. Right now."


End file.
